Snakes on a Plane
Finally, the most eagerly awaited film of the year – judging by Internet hype, not by actual box-office returns – is here: SNAKES ON A PLANE.
Plot? The title almost says it all. A Hawaiian surfer kid witnesses a mob hit and is asked to testify against the bad guy in L.A. Protecting him on the flight will be FBI Agent Neville (Samuel L. Jackson). The mob intends to make the flight hell by planting crates of deadly reptiles from the world over on the plane. Once in the air, snakes ensue.
SNAKES never made any promise beyond being a B-movie, and on that level, this horror/disaster thriller delivers. The promise of the title is fully realized, as there are a lot of snakes, and they bite the shit outta people. Not literally, although there is plenty of other graphic carnage to witness, as they sink their fangs into a bare breast and a urinating penis, as well as burrow their way through someone’s eye socket. I didn’t find any of SNAKES scary – every jump is pretty much telegraphed – but I didn’t expect how horrifically the stock characters would die. ‘Tis good gory fun.
It has a good cast, and everyone contributes something. Jackson gives it his resident bad-assness; as the flight attendant, erstwhile ERer Julianna Marguiles lends it some class; pilot David Koechner, some humor; SPECIES III hottie Sunny Mabrey, a little cleavage. It’s delightfully, intentionally cheeseball, out for nothing else than to be a fun ride. But don’t take that to mean it’s lazy or not well-made; instead, director David Ellis (now 3-for-3 after FINAL DESTINATION 2 and the woefully underrated CELLULAR) keeps the tension steady, the body count high and the pace quickening. If you’re disappointed by it, seriously, what were you expecting? –Rod Lott